Taking Care of Sammy
by LoveWithoutLimits
Summary: “You better not of nicked my pillow Sammy.” Dean grumbled... A bit of brotherly fluff when the youngest Winchester falls ill. LimpSam ComfortDean. : Very slight wincest :


**Disclaimer: Own nothing, nada, zip, zero!**

**Warnings: Very very mild slash, i mean literally, besides from the fact of sleeping in the same bed its not really even slash. **

**Enjoy :)**

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Taking Care of Sammy

Dean groaned incomprehensively as sleep was pulled away from him, by a rather annoying pain on the back of his head. Blinking his eyes open, he winced at the harsh lights of the latest crappy motel room. Cursing, he rubbed his head, frowning when his hand didn't meet the softness that usually indicated a pillow. Funny, he had gone to sleep with one. He tutted as the only explanation came to mind.

"You better not of nicked my pillow Sammy." Dean grumbled, swivelling over to face his younger sibling. Any angry remark was left dead on his tongue in an instance.

"Shit Sam." Dean gasped, as he took in the mans state. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, the bangs of his hair sticking oddly to his forehead. His lanky frame seemed to bend in on itself, his legs drawn tightly up to his chest. If the tremors running through Sam were any indication then the boy was freezing. Dean's missing pillow was clutched in Sam's arms, trying desperately to draw in some heat.

Dean's heart felt like it had been forced up into his throat. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" He mused sadly. He honestly couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed that Sam was ill. His Sammy, who he swore to look after. Gently reaching out his hand he brushed the bangs from Sam's face, more than a little concerned by the heat radiating off of it.

Dena did a mental check in his head. Sweating, probably due to a high fever. Clammy skin and cold. Just at that precise moment Sam decided he wanted to add a coughing fit to the mix. Dean quickly gripped Sam by the shoulders, bringing him to sit up against him. The coughs were rough and violent. He could only imagine how much hurt the mans chest. As the coughing subsided, Dena could hear Sam's ragged breaths coming out harsh, letting him know he was now awake.

"Sam?" Dean tried. He heard a mumble but no words. "Sammy, can you hear me?"

"De?" Sam mumbled, his head falling into the crook of Dean's neck. He was still trembling all over.

"Yeah Sammy, I'm here." Dean soothed, running a hand through Sam's damp hair. "How long have you been sick Baby?" He felt for sure that Sam gave him a shrug. "Come on Sammy, how long?"

"Couple days." Sam force out, his voice rasp. Dean swore he would of smacked the boy if he wasn't already in pain.

"Aw Sam, why didn't you tell me?"

"Could handle it, didn't want you to worry." Sam said slowly. Every word felt like a jackhammer in his ears. His head felt like it was on fire. The only thing keeping him grounded right now was the feel of Dean's neck against his cheek.

"It's my job to worry." Dean sighed automatically, wrapping his arms even tighter around his little brother. He half expected some sort of smart reply and was a little shocked when he got done. Looking down to see Sam's eyes closed, he assumed he had drifted back into sleep. Dean carefully lowered him back down on the bed, wrapping the sheets tightly around him. He placed a light kiss to Sam's temple.

Shoving on a pair of jeans, he hastily set about trying to find the medicine bag. He knew he had put it in the room somewhere. He was rummaging through one of the duffle bags when he heard a strangled sort of cry from the bed. Snapping round in an instance, Dean rushed to Sam's side as he tried to climb out of the bed.

"Sammy?" Dean said worriedly, putting a protective arm around Sam's waist as he swayed on the spot. Sam mutely nodded in the direction of the bathroom, trying his best to make his feet work. He only half felt Dean pull him along, carefully helping him to kneel in front of the bowl. The first wave hit without warning, burning its way up his throat. Hi chest tightened involuntarily, making the gagging worse.

"I got you Sammy." Dean soothed, rubbing circles across Sam's back.

"Hurts De." Sam whispered hoarsely, retching yet again. Sam being ill was the only time Dean got to see this side of his little brother. The side that was still eight years old, the side that depended on Dean to make everything better.

"I know Sam." Dean said softly, wrapping one arm around his brothers waist. "Just let it out, you'll feel better afterwards."

Three waves later and Sam was still, finally ceasing for now at least. If it was entirely possible he felt weaker than before. Leading him to the sink, Dean helped him drink a glass of water, rinsing the awful taste from Sam's mouth. Turns out the medicine bag was in the bathroom all along. Sam forced two Tylenol down his throat, already feeling sleepy again.

"Come on Sasquatch, back to bed." Dean joked lightly, hooking Sam against his side. The short distance took forever as Sam decided to become a dead weight half way there. Finally getting Sam tucked down, Dean perched himself on the edge of the bed. He stroked his hand lightly down Sam's face, thumb rubbing gently at the skin.

"You sleep Sammy. I'll take care of you."

Sam smiled sleepily and tugged at Dean's arm in an effort to get him to lie down with him. Dean obliged, pulling Sam against his chest securely.

"Love you De."

"Love you too Sammy."

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